Tag: rochester ny

The Genesee River works its way north from Pennsylvania through the hills, valleys and plateaus of western New York, cascading over falls, sliding over limestone and shale before slicing through Rochester and quietly slipping into the Great Lake, Ontario, at the city’s port. The river is a landmark of our community, inspiring photographers, writers and poets.

(photo by Kathy Davis: blog.life-verses.com)

Tonight, at the Wegman’s Pub* in Perinton, NY, was a night for poetry, inspired not by the river, but by ‘beer and brotherhood’.

‘Let those who are in favor with their stars of public honor and proud titles boast…’ (2)

To call us ‘Bards’’ would be an exaggeration. We’re just four old guys sitting around a table, enjoying a couple of brews and reading poetry. Four men with three hundred combined years, reading other people’s work, real poets’ work. A beautiful thing!

A tool-maker, a software engineer, a Marine fighter pilot and a screw salesman, reading Blake, Kilmer and Shakespeare between sips of IPAs, stouts and lagers. But not just reading them, actually interpreting them and discussing the role of poetry in our own lives. Believe me, it happened.

From the personification of a tree as a living being to tigers and everlasting love, we brought our favorite poems to the table tonight and read them aloud, in a pub. Our voices rose to the occasion.

Who knew Joyce Kilmer was a man? One of us admitted taking a poetry class. Shakespeare was being Shakespeare, and one of us was never exposed to poetry. Life’s lessons are a result of our own places and times. Growing up in coal country, on a farm or in an urban setting makes a difference in one’s experiences. Sharing those differences is exciting.

‘Tyger, Tyger, burning bright,In the forests of the night…’ (3)

When did poetry come into our lives, someone asked. I’m not sure, myself, I suppose it was required reading in school. In 5th grade, I memorized the first few stanzas of Longfellow’s ‘The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere’ and still can recite it, although I forget names of people I’ve recently met.

Some find poetry inspirational, I enjoy its imagery. Poets excel at using language to effectively tell their stories. The rhythm of their words completes a process that makes poetry so different from prose. Poems have ‘voices’.

Do you like poetry? Tell us your favorite. By the way, I recommend reading it with beer and friends…

‘The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees…And the highwayman came riding, riding, riding…’(4)

srbottch.com

Trees by Joyce Kilmer

Shakespeare’s Sonnet #25

The Tyger by William Blake

The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes.

*The Pub at Wegmans in Perinton was very nice. More of an eating environment than a genuine pub, but it was quiet, perfect for our social event. We didnt have to ‘cup’ our ears.

While it seemed forever, it was only five rings before I answered. Five rings!

‘Cargo’ shorts complicate life. Seven pockets on a half pair of pants is complicated. Forgetting which one holds my phone is problematic. Ignoring the call would have been the prudent choice, but I answered, feigning innocence, yet knowing what was coming.

“What took so long, it rang forever, and where are you, dairy”, she asked.

Cursed shorts!

Nevertheless, a poignant question, where am I? I’m certainly not in dairy, that would mean I’m nearly finished. No, I’m still in produce, somewhere beyond broccoli, carrots and apples, in the vicinity of lettuce and potatoes and finally here, the last stop before my itinerary (she organizes it by, a.department, b.aisle, c.product) … before my itinerary takes me to breads, pharmacy and general goods, but nowhere near dairy, our final rendezvous before check-out.

“I’m lost in bananas”!

I was sincere, hoping not to sound sarcastic, but the cacophony of silence told me otherwise.

However, it’s true, it’s easy to ‘get lost’ in bananas, baked goods, even seafood and sushi, for that matter, in my grocery store. And not because it’s big, which it is, but because it’s a cornucopia (kaleidoscope, too) of sights and sounds that satiate my senses. If I have to grocery shop, then why not do it in a place with the finest food and the best workers, WEGMANS*, where the motto is, “everyday, you get our best”.

Besides the variety and orderly, almost artistic, arrangement of fresh produce, fish, poultry and meats, as well as breads, cheeses and general food staples, WEGMANS is a reflection of the American ‘melting pot’, where at any one time I can bump carts with a potpourri of people from Rochester’s diverse international community, or Wegman family members themselves, and I do.

But I get ‘lost’, easily.

I get waylaid in pastry, sampling Maria’s rum balls. Jim, in produce, brightens my day with his loud hello and attentive ear to my rambling anecdotes. Barnabus, in beers, educates me on hops and barley, which I forget, but how can you not listen to a man with such a fascinating name.

I go to Wegmans with three things: a shopping list, orders not to deviate from it, and a reminder to get in, get done and get home. Easier said than done. The sights and sounds of fresh vegetables, ripe fruits, prepared meals, fish, meats and cheeses being laid out in perfect symmetry is pleasing to the eye and tantalizing to the taste buds. How can one possibly go through here quickly?

I’m ‘lost in bananas’ because shopping becomes secondary to the enjoyment of new discoveries in different departments. And I’m always ‘observing’ other shoppers, a diverse congregation of people who fill the aisles, their carts, and the cash registers.

If you’re going to get ‘lost’, do it in Wegmans.

You’ll have the nicest time finding your way out, but be prepared with a good alibi for when you get ‘found’….

srbottch

*incredible stat: 9 WEGMANS grocery stores with a 15-20 minutes of my home. And thats just a start. Rochester is fortunate to have this iconic company headquartered here.

Ahhh, the morning newspaper. World updates, local happenings, sports, the funnies. Quite frankly, I’d miss my morning paper more than my morning ‘Joe’. What about you?

I started reading the morning paper as a kid, growing up in Worcester, MA. We were a ‘two-a-day’ family, subscribing to the Morning Telegram and Evening Gazette. Like clockwork, ‘paperboys’ delivered them to our back door early morning and late afternoon, six days a week and Sunday morning. My sister and I raced for the Sunday comics. The winner would get smug while the loser got a tantalizingly long lesson in ‘patience’.

I don’t race to get the paper now, I can’t move that fast. Besides, I probably read the major news items on my smart phone during a night wakeup, hence the urgency isn’t as great. Regardless, reading it page to page is still a priority in the morning.

Afternoon editions are passé in today’s news business. Modern technology informs us as events unfold, no waiting. Cable news, Internet and ‘talking heads’ are fierce competitors for newspapers. In that same vein, I suppose, morning editions are likely carrying ‘stale’ news, as well. Isn’t progress wonderful? Well, yes, but…

I’m a bit of a ‘dinosaur’ when it comes to the ‘speed’ of today’s environment. That’s why I like baseball, a leisurely game, completed when completed, no clock, just a comfortable pastime. Quit tinkering with it.

I don’t like being rushed through checkout lines, either, and am not a fan of instant oatmeal. I like to take my time, and that goes for reading the news. The local paper allows me that quirk without pressing buttons, scrolling screens or double clicking. And I don’t mind a little newsprint on my fingers. I’m a ‘dinosaur’.

I like big headlines, bold and dramatic. The bolder the headlines, the more dramatic the event. Two word headlines really get my attention:

GORE WINS

BUSH WINS

DEWEY WINS

(In baseball, ‘1 outta 3’ is pretty good!)

So many headlines I’ve seen over the years: wars and weather, moon shots and hot shots, politicians and popes, winners and losers. I’ve read them all in my morning paper and even saved some in a box, stashed in my cellar. They probably deserve better.

Occasionally, I’ll read them and reflect, ‘a lot has happened in my lifetime, what will my morning paper read tomorrow?’ I think I’ll hurry to the back door early for that answer. Will it be old news by then? This ‘dinosaur’ enjoys his morning paper!

What an amazing place, Seabreeze Amusement Park*, where you can feel young, be entertained, exhilarated, energized and exhausted. I hadn’t been to Seabreeze in 25 years and now I’ve been twice in 3 weeks, thanks to my wife’s insistence.

Braving the Jack Rabbit and Bobsled roller coasters, surrounded by hordes of screaming kids with their arms skyward as we ascended and descended steep inclines, was like visiting the mythical fountain of youth. This senior citizen felt like a kid, again.

Getting drenched on the Flume was like splashing in a giant puddle, but it helped take an edge off the hot, sunny day. Who cared if you looked as though you just wet your pants? No one knew if you soaked yourself from fright, sliding down the steep falls, or just from the splash when you landed, maybe both. We wore the giant wet spot on our bottoms like a badge of honor, blending in with everyone on that ride, young and old, proudly parading around the park while drying our pants in the sun

Watching little kids on their tiny rides took us back to our days as young parents, ourselves, when we introduced our children to fun rides at this American pastime we call amusement parks. Enjoying them, we could easily see our two kids in the brightly colored ‘speed boats’, the ‘fighter rocket planes’ armed with front and rear guns, the ‘spinning teacups’ and ‘speedy’ convertible hot rod cars.

The encouraging calls of excited parents added to the kids’ thrills. Refrains of ‘again, again’ made me see our own children zipping from ride to ride, and, like a time machine in my mind’s eye, watching them grow again from dependant children to young adults, when they chose the scarier rides and thrills themselves. It was wonderful.

My wife, the adventurous type, urged me to take her to Seabreeze to ride the Jack Rabbit wooden coaster. I’m glad she did. We’ll do it again this year and every year. I might even get brave enough to venture on the WhirlWind, a ride that takes you on the ups, downs, twist and turns while spinning you in your seat. Then again…well, I’ll have all winter to think about it. And in Rochester, NY, that can be a lonnnnggg time!

*Charlotte, NY

I wrote this a couple of years ago but Seabreeze Park is now a regular stop in the summer. I still haven’t ridden the ‘Twirly Bird’!